


How to Nail an Olympic Snowboarder in Two Weeks

by FeministLyds



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 2014 Winter Olympics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Olympics, F/M, Lydia and Scott scheme, M/M, Pining, Pining Derek, Pining Stiles, Stiles and Lydia Ice Dance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-12 00:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeministLyds/pseuds/FeministLyds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"As soon as Stiles found out that he could skate with the girl he had a massive crush on, he jumped for it.<br/>He figured out much later down the line that he wasn’t quite into Lydia’s type."</p><p>Stiles Stilinski and Lydia Martin are the new pair on the Olympic Ice Dancing team. Stiles already thinks he's on cloud nine, and so snowboarder Derek Hale must be an angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taking Off

**Author's Note:**

> "As soon as Stiles found out that he could skate with the girl he had a massive crush on, he jumped for it.  
> He figured out much later down the line that he wasn’t quite into Lydia’s type."
> 
> Stiles Stilinski and Lydia Martin are the new pair on the Olympic Ice Dancing team. Stiles already thinks he's on cloud nine, and so snowboarder Derek Hale must be an angel.

As soon as Stiles Stilinski sat down on the plane, he started nervously wringing his hands.

“Stop.” Lydia said, placing her hands on Stiles’, stilling them. “You’re going to drive me crazy before we even get there.”

Stiles smiled at her, opening his mouth to respond. Before he could, a member of the Hockey team started chanting.

“U-S-A! U-S-A!”

Stiles started almost immediately afterwards, getting up out of his seat and into the aisle, pumping his fist. Lydia sat there, head in one hand, but still grinning.

Because they had gotten there.

They had made it.

The chant died down and Stiles took his seat again, a goofy smile all over his face.

“Where’s Scott?” Lydia asked, just in time for the aforementioned to slide into the seat next to Stiles.

“Sup man!” Stiles exclaimed, before attempting to awkwardly man hug Scott while they were both sitting.

They had been children together, both getting into hockey at the same time in elementary school. Scott figured out quickly that he much preferred snowboarding, and as soon as Stiles found out that he could skate with the girl he had a massive crush on, he jumped for it.

He figured out much later down the line that he wasn’t quite into Lydia’s type.

The intercom crackled, a loud booming voice coming over.

“Listen up, we will be taking off very shortly, and landing in Soshi, in - What SoCHi? That’s weird. Okay, we’ll be landing in Sochi in about 11 hours.” It was the hockey coach, the only person who genuinely struck fear into every single person on that flight.

“You better be getting some sleep on the way there, because you won’t be getting much for the next two weeks.”

Stiles snorted. Like that was going to happen.

-

About seven hours into the flight, Stiles was becoming restless. This was easily the longest flight he had ever been on, and he had been on quite a few over the last couple of years.

From living in California, to training in New York, to all the competitions; he had racked up quite a bit of air time.

Boston was by far the most nervous he had ever been before a competition. Scott was training and couldn’t make it, but he texted him before hand letting him know that he would be watching.

They were the underdogs, a newer team with little national exposure. And this was their big chance, to show everyone back home that he was worth something.

They took the ice for their long program, Stiles’s heart beating faster than ever inside his chest.

“Now this, folks, is a new team from California. A bit of a rare state to have competitors from. Not really on par with some of our other pairs, and not looking like they’ll be in the running for the Olympic spot either. They are in seventh place after their short program yesterday.”

They started, Stiles taking Lydia’s waist. They were gliding, the music sinking in as they fell easily into their step routine.

“Now this is a surprise, Lydia Martin and ‘Stiles’ Stilinski. Very strong.”

Stiles knew the routine forwards and backwards, and they hit every move almost right, only slipping on his skate once, slightly before the lift.

They finished strong, throwing their hands up and bowing as stuffed animals flooded the ice.

“Wow! Now folks, this is what I like to see here. A team from nowhere, coming out and skating their best with a wonderful result. Very excited to see their scores!”

They held hands as they skated off the ice, waving at the crowd.

Their coach met them on the side of the ice: Lydia’s mother.

“Almost perfect! Come on this way.” She led the two of them off after they put the covers on their blades.

They sat where they were told, nervously awaiting their scores.

As they were announce, Lydia’s mother leaned over to whisper that they were in Second place.

Stiles jumped up, hugging Lydia who had done the same.

-

As they passed the eighth hour of their flight, Stiles sighed.

“Can I go talk to someone?” He asked Lydia. Lydia, with her headphones on, shook her head.

“Pleaseeeeee” He begged; she shook her head again.

He slumped back in his seat, sighing.

Just then, someone passed their seat on their way up to the bathroom. He was gorgeous. Stiles sat up, alarmed, before jabbing his elbow into Scott’s ribs and waking him up. Scott looked up, groggy.

“Oww, dude, what was that for?”

“Who is that?” He hissed, pointing at the radiant man who had just passed.

Scott looked up, raising his eyebrows.

“It’s Derek Hale; he trained with me a little. He’s cross.” Scott said, laying back down into his seat.

“Skiing?” Stiles asked, confused.

“No, boarding.” Scott said, yawning.

“I thought that wasn’t an event?”

“They’re bringing it back this year, its one of the new ones. Can I go back to sleep now?” He asked. Stiles nodded.

He waited anxiously for him to pass again.

Two minutes later, he did, and Stiles got a good look at his face. Just as gorgeous as he had originally thought. As soon as he passed, Stiles leaned over to Lydia.

“I’m going to go say hi to Isaac.” He said, getting up. Lydia nodded lightly, half asleep.

He had met the hockey team not long ago, at an event for all the ice-related Olympians.

“Hey.” Stiles said, sliding up to Isaac’s aisle seat. Isaac took his headphones off.

“Hi.”

“How are you doing?” He asked, not really waiting for an answer.

“He’s back there next to Allison.” Danny, who was sitting next to him, said, pointing his thumb back.

“How’d you know who I was looking for?” He asked.

“I saw you ogle his ass earlier. Just go.” Danny sighed, turning back to talk to one of the twins. Stiles assumed it was Aiden, since Danny wasn’t actively flirting with him.

“You're the best!"

Stiles continued back down the aisle, heading for Allison, Scott’s ex-girlfriend and current Mogul skier. They had remained friendly, which at this point was amazing for Stiles.

“Hey Allison.” He said, sliding up and kneeling down next to her.

“Hey!” She said, taking off her headphones.

“Good trip so far?” He asked her. She nodded.

Derek had his headphones on, and was resting against the back of the seat with his eyes closed. Stiles nodded at him, and she mouthed ‘Derek Hale’.

‘I know that’ He mouthed back. ‘Can you introduce me?’ She shook her head.

‘He’s asleep’

“Nice to meet you, Stiles.” Derek said, holding his hand out surprising the both of them.

“How do you know my name?” Stiles squeaked. 

“I watched Nationals a few weeks ago. You were both very impressive.” He said, and finally Stiles remembered to shake his hand.

“Wow, thank you.”

“I’m sure we will meet up again soon, Stiles.” He said, putting his headphones back in.

“I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If its not clear
> 
> Ice dancers: Stiles/Lydia  
> Snowboarders: Scott and Derek  
> Mogul Skier: Allison  
> Hockey players: Danny, Isaac, the twins
> 
> I think I might continue? I have it planned out to, but I've never written a chaptered fic before.  
> Let me know if you'd be interested in me continuing. 
> 
> I'm Bloodybigship on tumblr; come say hi!


	2. Whirlwind Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team lands and interviews, with some interesting results.

They landed a few hours later, right on time.

Stiles had been sitting up in his seat, anxiously vibrating his leg, when the plane finally touched down. It had done the job of waking everyone up, and everyone began to wake and yawn.

They were ushered quickly off the plane, security everywhere. But what surprised Stiles even more was the press.

They were just outside the police barricade, a swarm of them with microphones, video cameras, digital cameras and more, just waiting to get a quote from them.

Lydia’s mom had caught up with the three of them then, just as everyone began to stop and give into the press’ questioning.

“Scott, you should probably find Deaton. I saw him back that way.” She said, motioning towards the plane. Deaton had been Scott’s coach from the very beginning, and the two were like father and son. She turned to them.

“Now, for you two, I want you to play it cool. You’re excited; it’s your first Olympics; you’re just happy to be here. Really ham it up too, you get more time on screen if you’re a fan favorite. And time on screen means that you get more deals when you get home, and…”

“Mom, I think we got it.” Lydia said, grabbing her mother’s arm and smiling.

“Right. You’ll do great. I’ll see you back in the village.” She said, grabbing her bags.

“Thanks, Ms. Martin.” Stiles said, kissing her on the cheek. She nodded, smiling, before continuing to the waiting taxis.

“Over here!” Stiles hears immediately, and turns around to see a pretty woman with blonde hair and a microphone waving at them. Stiles grabbed Lydia’s arm, motioning towards her. Lydia nodded, leading the way.

As soon as they reached her, she launched into the interview.

“I’m here with the surprise Olympians: Lydia Martin and ‘Stiles’ Stilinski. They came out of nowhere this year and took silver at Nationals, landing them a place on the team. What a whirlwind ride it has been for you two.” She said, before pointing the microphone at them.

“It really has been; at the beginning of this season we never dreamed that we would be here. It’s a blessing, really.” Lydia said, putting on her full smile for the camera.

“Now, you already know quite a lot of the team, don’t you?” She asked, this time pointing the camera at Stiles.

“Like Lydia said, we’ve been blessed to be where we are and to be surrounded by the people we care about. Once you get onto that level, you begin to know lots of people. It’s really nice to have friends that won’t forget you exist after you don’t talk to them for a month because you’re training.” Stiles joked, and the anchor laughed incredibly loud and incredibly fake.  

“Now, I know you know the favorite for the new slope style contest, Scott McCall. Now, how did you two meet?” She asked.

“Funny you should ask.” A voice came from behind Stiles, and he turned around just in time to see Scott before he slung an arm over his shoulder.

“We’ve been friends for years. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about training and such.” He said.

“Is that all I’m good for? I’m hurt, Scott.” Stiles said, putting his hand up to cover his heart. The anchor fake laughed again.

“Funny and charming! Lydia, how do you keep up with these boys?” She asked.

“A lot of coffee.” Lydia said with a smirk, Stiles could tell she was getting annoyed with the anchor, but she was smarter than to burn that bridge.

“Well it has been wonderful talking to the three of you, and I hope to see lots more as the weeks go by! This is Carol Emmerson, signing off.” The Anchor shut off her camera, immediately turning and ignoring the three of them, so they walked off.

“That was _pleasant_.” Stiles said.

“I can’t stand people like that. Let’s get going.” Lydia said, directing them to the waiting taxis.

Stiles looked back, searching to see who the next victim of their anchor, only to have his heart leap into his throat when he saw that chiseled back and dark cropped hair.  

He would have to be watching that interview later.

-

As they drove through the crowded streets, Stiles took in the city. It was gorgeous, apart from one strange factor.

“Where’s the snow?” He asked aloud, finally noticing what was off.

“Sochi’s a summer resort.” Lydia said simply before she went back to looking out her window.

“What? Why?” Scott asked, surprised.

“Putin’s favorite place to visit. We’ll be going up in the mountains for the snow events though.” She explained. Stiles just nodded, going back to staring out the window.

When they arrived in the village, they were immediately signed in. They received credentials in return for their passports and fingerprints.

“For extra security.” A man in a heavy Russian accent had said.

The credentials didn’t matter when they reached the inside of the village.

There was a large square in the middle with a gorgeous fountain. There was even patches of snow covering the ground. Stiles had a hunch it wasn’t real, but he didn’t care enough to give up the illusion.

“This way.” Lydia said, leading them towards one of the larger buildings.

There was an American flag next to the Russian one, and Stiles assumed that this really couldn’t be anyone else’s building.

As they entered, Stiles’s jaw dropped. It was easily the nicest place he had ever stayed in. Everything was marble, with statues all around and a grand piano in what appeared to be the living room.

“Stiles, we’re up this way. Scott, it looks like you’re down there.” Lydia said, and Stiles waved at Scott as he disappeared down a hallway.

“So, since there’s two of us, we’ve got the room and we don’t have to share with anyone. We’re one of the lucky ones actually."

Just as they were about to enter their room, someone came out of the one next to it.

“Hey,” He said. “Fancy seeing you here.” Lydia pushed on, opening the doorway. The guy kept pushing.

“Don’t you want to talk about it?” He asked, turning his head to the side and pushing farther.  

She shook her head, and lugged her bags into their room, plopping them down on the left bunk.

“Go away, Jackson, I do _not_ want to talk to you right now.” Lydia said forcefully, and he backed off.

“Okay, whatever you say.” He said, annoyed, backing up in and out of the room.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Stiles asked as soon as Jackson had left the room. 

"Nope."

Stiles checked the clock, one of the only things the room actually came with. It said it was 3pm. Stiles knew that the only way to beat the jet lag was staying up until a reasonable hour that night; he had done his long-distance-travel research.

He pulled his bag to him, opening it up and extracting his laptop.

He opened it up, swiftly typing in his password.

“What do you think the wifi password is here?” He asked. Lydia shook her head as she continued to unpack.

“I don’t know, but you can probably ask someone..”

“Got it.” Stiles said simply. Lydia whipped around.

“What was it?”

“Putin.”

“Figures.”

-

Stiles had finally given in to his favorite pastime an hour later: googling himself.

There was a few new articles about the plane landing, and a clip to their interview with Carol Fakelaugh, but there seemed to be nothing overly interesting. Until-

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed. Lydia didn’t bother looking up from her book.  

“What, Stiles.”

“ ‘According to a source on the United States team jet, Ice Dancer ‘Stiles’ Stilinski was flirting with Boarder Derek Hale. This goes against recent claims that he is romantically involved with his partner, Lydia Martin. Could a love triangle be in the air here at the Olympics?’” He said in a disgusted tone.

Lydia looked up, sitting on the edge of her perfectly made bed.

“Well, that’s what you get for flirting with him, I guess.” She said as she put her book aside.

“Are you not mad that they said we’re together?” He asked, motioning between the two of them. She shot him a look that said ‘as if’ and went back to her book.

Stiles copied and pasted the URL, sending it to Scott, who replied only moments later.

‘That was a pleasure from start to finish.’

Stiles sent him back an angry emoji before opening up twitter.

‘Been a wild ride so far in Sochi. And to start out this wild ride, how about some wild lies?’ He chuckled to himself before adding the link and hitting send.

He looked up, about to mention his tweet to Lydia, when his laptop dinged, signaling a new email.

‘Derek Hale (@DerekHale) is now following you on Twitter!’

“oh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, I broke rule #1 of writing: never go against your research. Yes, they do room by sport and not by country, but do you want Derek and Stiles to sleep together or not? 
> 
> New updates to sports
> 
> Solo Mens Figure Skating - Jackson  
> Trainers/Coaches - Miss Martin (Lydia and Stiles)  
> \- Deaton (Scott)


	3. “Which one of these says ‘I want your dick up my ass.’”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has another encounter with Derek, this one not going quite as well as the last.

  
“I’m bored.” Stiles said, after laying on his bed for an hour. “And tired.”

“Then go get an energy drink.” Lydia replied, still reading the same book.

“It’s five in the afternoon; I don’t _need_ an energy drink.” He whined.

“Apparently you do.” She said, still reading.

He huffed before he hauled himself off his bunk, setting both feet on the ground.

“Aren’t you coming with me?” He asked when she didn’t move.

“Get me a strawberry banana smoothie.” She said, tapping him lightly on the cheek while continuing to read her book.

He huffed again, leaving the room. He got halfway down the hallway, and then stopped and turned around. He knocked loudly on the door.

“I forgot a key!” He yelled.

“You don’t need one, dufus, I’m in the room!”

He turned again, before heading back down the hallway.

He walked down the pretty staircase back into the foyer. It then occurred to him that he had forgotten to ask Lydia where the kitchen actually _was_. He cursed quietly, then continued through the foyer to the living room.

He passed the grand piano, reaching down to hit one of the keys. It rang out clear, and much louder than he expected. He spun around, checking to make sure no one was there. He sighed in relief before noticing an opening a little farther down. He pumped his fist slightly before entering.

It reminded Stiles of a QT, only with much more marble and stainless steel. He looked around, noticing someone else there. Someone else with an incredibly attractive physique.

Stiles gulped.

He had taken off his Olympic jacket, the one they were all wearing when they arrived. He was now just in a light purple tshirt and a pair of sweatpants.

“Uh, Hey.” Stiles said, and Derek turned around.

“Hey.” He said, nodding to him. Stiles noticed what was in his hand.

“Hey, that’s the same thing Scott drinks.” He said, slightly kicking himself for being so embarrassing. Name dropping, nice job Stiles.

“Yeah, I know, he’s my roommate. He asked me to get it, since I was going.” He said before moving to another portion of the refrigerated wall and pulling open the door.

“Me too, Lydia sent me.” He said. While he was talking, Stiles grabbed a smoothie cup before putting it under the dispenser for Strawberry Banana.

“What, do _you_ not like Strawberry Banana smoothies?” Derek asked, raising his eyebrows. Stiles turned around to face him when the machine was done.

“Nah, I’m more of a…” Stiles broke off when he noticed Derek holding the energy drink he normally gets. “That kind of guy, actually.” He said, pointing.

“Oh, here.” Derek reached back, grabbing another.

“Thanks.” Stiles said, taking it from him.

“So are you excited for your first Olympics?” Derek asked.

“More than. I hope the public likes it when I break out into nervous hives.” _Smooth move, Stilinski._ Stiles was kicking himself.

“It shouldn’t be that bad if you’ve got Lydia there with you. How long have you two been together?” Derek asked.

“A while. We just fit, you know?”

Derek nodded, but his face didn’t have the same spark as it did a moment ago.

“Well, I’ll see you later, I guess.” Derek said, smiling.

“Yeah, see ya.”

-

“I talked to him.” Stiles said as soon as he entered the room through the very much unlocked door. He handed Lydia her smoothie and sat down on her bed.

“What did you say?” She asked, talking a sip from the straw.

“He asked if I was excited, how long we had been skating together, stuff like that. We’ve reached the small talk level of our relationship.” He said proudly.

“He asked how long we had been skating together?” She asked.

“Yeah? A lot of people have been asking that.” He asked, unfazed.

“Exactly. Wouldn’t he already know that?” She said, setting down her drink in her lap before pulling her hair back in a pony tail.

“I don’t know, small talk, like I said.”

“But what did he say exactly?” She asked.

“He asked how long we had been together.” Stiles said, still oblivious. Lydia stared at him. Realization began to flood into Stiles.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, falling back onto her bed with his hands on his face. “I’ve ruined it. That’s it. Let’s just go home now and forget this ever happened.”

“You’ll have time to make up for it at the party later.” She said, ignoring his rant and smirking. He cracked his fingers, looking at her through the gaps.

“What party?” He asked. She smirked again.

“While you were off playing _lovey-dovey_ , I asked Boyd and Erica what was going to happen tonight.” She said.

“Who?”

“Boyd and Erica? Figure Skaters? Pairs? This is their third Olympics? We met them at Nationals? Any of this ringing a bell?” She asked. He thought for a moment.

“Ohhhh”

“Yeah. They said that there would be a party in one of the larger buildings, and would normally be thrown by whoever the host team is. Since Russia isn’t going to host it, it would fall to the biggest countries. It’s here or Canada, and, well…”

“That’s… really good thinking. Thanks.” He said, sitting back up.

“Well, you’re welcome.”

-

“What are you going to wear?” Stiles yelled, his head in his suitcase and clothes flying comically everywhere.

“You’re putting too much though into this.”

“I already embarrassed myself once today, I’m not going to do it again by, I don’t know, _clashing_.” He said.

“Stiles, it’s hard to clash with t-shirts.” Lydia said. Stiles turned around, holding up a dark blue button down and a blue and white Henley.

“Which one of these says ‘I want your dick up my ass.’”

“ _Stiles._ ”

“What?” He said, shaking the shirts. Lydia paused for a moment.

“The Henley. With that pair of dark wash jeans that make your ass look great.” She said, smiling.

“You’re a goddess.”

“I try.”

-

Twenty minutes and one Stiles-hair-breakdown later, they were headed down the stairs arm in arm. Stiles could hear the bass line from the music before they had even left their room.

The lights were primarily out, with a few spotlights that Stiles was pretty sure someone stole from somewhere.

The room was pumping with music. Stiles managed to catch a glimpse of Scott, pressed up between who appeared to be Allison and Isaac.

“Is that Allison and Isaac with Scott?” Stiles asked Lydia, yelling over the music.

“Looks like it. Come on, let’s get a drink.”

 


	4. Cross my heart and hope to die, that I'll only stay with you one more night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles likes dancing, obvious from the fact that he's an Ice Dancer. But Stiles really likes dancing with Derek.

His hair dripping as it clung to his face, Stiles grinded back onto a ski jumper from Portugal who may have been named William, he wasn't sure. Stiles was a mess. Two margaritas and three shots in, he had already danced with a pretty skeleton slider from Canada, a boarder from Australia and what he came to understand was both halves of a German pairs skating team. Separately. And then together.

Stiles liked this Olympics thing.

The lights were low and Stiles could feel the music down to his toes. Even the stolen spotlights at this point had been dimmed due to someone putting makeshift red and blue filters overtop.

The music was the most interesting part; a steady flow of music in all types of languages poured out of the speakers. Everything from what he recognized as German to Korean to Spanish. The only common theme was the thumping dance beat.

He was sweating and had rolled up the sleeves on his Henley when he stopped to get a drink.

He searched the crowd, looking for Lydia. When he didn’t see her dancing, he headed for the drinks table that had been set up in the grand piano’s absence.

He spotted a wave of red hair next to the margarita machine and smiled.

As he got closer, he noticed that she was talking to someone, and he stopped walking, not wanting to interrupt. Upon further examination, he noticed that she was looking at her nails and flipping her hair, tell tale signs of her trying to get away from this conversation without being rude.

He paused a moment before he sauntered over and threw an arm around her waist.

“Hey honey.” He said, kissing her on the cheek.

The guy quickly backed off with a “nice talking to you” before he sunk into the crowd. Lydia turned to Stiles, smiling.

“Thanks,”

“Any time.” He said, his hand still around her waist.

 “You know, _that_ will get you nowhere with Sexy Muscles.” She said, pointing to her waist. Stiles let go of her like she was on fire.

“I think he’s a no show?” He said, his voice turning up at the end.

Honestly, he had been looking for him all night, not like he was about to admit that to Lydia. He had just met the guy after all.

And that ski jumper might have had a little stubble just like he did.

And the boarder might have had his smile.

Not that he noticed or anything.

He jumped out of his fog when Lydia snapped in front of his face.

“Huh?” He said, hazy.

“I said he’s right over there, idiot.” She said, motioning with her head.

Stiles spun around, catching Derek’s eye just before the boarder turned out of embarrassment.

“You should go talk to him.” Lydia said, but Stiles was already gone.

 Stiles approached where Derek was seated cautiously. He was with what he _thought_ was the Russian Luge team. Derek was wearing a black button down with a silver tie and skinny jeans, something Stiles was pretty sure was illegal.

As he got closer, he realized that whoever they were, they were definitely Russian, as Derek was chatting with them in the language rapidly.

 _Fuck that’s hot_ Stiles thought to himself, slightly dazed. He shook himself out of it, standing on the outside of their chair-circle.

“Hi Stiles.” Derek said, breaking his conversation.

“Hey!” He said, overenthusiastic. “Oh, um, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, it’s fine, we were just talking about Moscow in spring. Have you ever been?”

“Um, no, I haven’t.” He said, awkward.

“It’s really beautiful.” _Like you_

Derek got up. “Приятно с вами пообщаться” He said to the guys he was sitting with.

Stiles tried to convince himself that what he just did was _not_ swooning.

“What’s up?” Derek asked as they walked further away from the dancing mass.

“I just wanted to apologize for earlier, I might have…”

He was interrupted by someone who obviously knew Derek, as he had grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Hey man! Long time no see.” The man said in a heavy English accent.

“It’s good to see you.” Derek said, grabbing the man’s hand and pulling him in for a hug.

“Who is your friend?” He asked, turning on Stiles.

“This is Stiles, Stiles, this is Matt.” Matt turned to Stiles, with a look in his eye that Stiles did not like one bit. They shook hands anyway, Matt holding on a touch too long.

“I’ve heard about you. You’re an Ice dancer, right?” He said, moving towards Stiles. Stiles unconsciously moved closer to Derek.

“Yes.”

“That’s _interesting_. A lot of flexibility required in that, right?” Matt said, moving closer still.

“Not really, just a lot of leg strength.” There was an awkward pause, and then

“Do you want to dance?” He asked.

“Actually,” Stiles said, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could catch them, “Derek had already asked me to.”

Stiles looked up at Derek, silently pleading.

“Yes, that’s right.” Derek said. Stiles had to stop himself from sighing in relief. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

Stiles took Derek’s hand and pulled him to the dance floor. His heart was in his throat and he tried to fight off actually throwing up.

Somewhere in the back of Stiles’s brain he registered the song as Maroon 5, but all thought flooded from his brain when Derek grabbed his hips pressed up against his back.

_I start losing my head, losing my head, let it all go_

Stiles was in heaven. There was no other word to describe it. He could feel Derek’s, there was no other word for it, rippling abs, as he continued to press into the back of him.

_I cross my heart and I hope to die_

Stiles dropped slightly to the beat, putting his arm up and getting into the music. He silently threw a thanks up to the sky to whoever it was that invented alcohol.

He wrapped the arm that was in the air around Derek’s head, his head falling back onto his shoulder. Stiles ran his hand through Derek’s hair, his heart racing. He could feel the bass line in his bones.

_Feeling satisfied but guilty as hell_

Stiles turned his head to the side as he continued to grind down on Derek. Derek leaned down, turning his head to look at Stiles.

Derek’s eyes were pitch black. Stiles’s heart stopped.

Derek rolled his hips into Stiles again, but this time Stiles felt it.

Derek was hard.

Derek was _really_ hard.

Got you stuck on my body like a tattoo

“Your room or mine?” Stiles asked, feeling brave. Derek groaned slightly.

“Yours.” He said, his voice rough.

Stiles moved fast, grabbing Derek’s hand again, but this time with a much different intent.

He damn near ran to the stairs, stopping on the way only to grab a handful of glittering foil packages off the conveniently placed tables. He had to laugh; they had Olympic rings on the packaging.

_I’ll only stay with you one more night_

They managed to keep their hands off each other long enough to make it up the stairs. As soon as Stiles had his key in the lock and was through the door, Derek pushed him back against it, attaching his mouth to Stiles’s neck.

Stiles sighed, his blood rushing through his veins and skin tingling. Derek was making his way slowly up Stiles’s neck, and Stiles didn’t even think about the hickeys it would cause in the morning, he just threw his head back and moaned.

Finally, Derek reached his jaw. He stopped, looking into Stiles’s eyes. They were blown out, even more than they were before, if that was even possible.

Derek kissed him hard, the smell of alcohol still on his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you guys be interested in having the next chapter be porn? I'll write it, but only if you guys want it.  
> Also One More Night is my Sterek song so I'm actually really glad I got to work it in there.  
> Thank you for continuing to read! <3  
> P.S. Ice Dancing starts today if you are interested in watching :)


	5. Hazy Vision and Busy Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek are drunk and together.

“Have you seen Stiles?” Lydia asked Isaac, grabbing his arm as he walked past. Isaac shrugged, beer in hand.

“Sorry. Haven’t seen him since he was dancing with that German pair earlier.” She huffed. “You might want to ask Danny; I think he might have. I saw him dancing over there a few minutes ago.” Isaac said, pointing. Lydia rushed over.

“Danny!” She said, pulling him out of dancing with someone she thought was Australian.

“Can I help you?” Danny asked, irritated.

“Have you seen Stiles?”

“Last I saw him he was headed upstairs with that broody boarder.” He said, and a smile began to creep across Lydia’s face. She spun around, taking off for the drink table.

“You’re welcome!” He called after her.

Scott was there, just as Lydia knew he would be.

“What’s up?” He asked as she approached.

“I’m rooming with you tonight.” She said, smiling.

“But Derek rooming with me.”

“Well, since Derek is in _my_ room at the moment…” She left off, gesturing with her hand as she waited for Scott to get the picture. It took a moment, and then,

“OH!”

Lydia smiled, and walked back out onto the dance floor.

-

It was rushed, so rushed. All tongue and teeth and tequila and blood rushing through limbs.  Everything was slightly hazy to Stiles,

Derek pressed Stiles against the back of the door while he was yanking desperately at his shirt in an attempt to get it off. Stiles threw his head back against the wood as everything sunk in.

When Derek got Stiles’s shirt up to his arms, Stiles helped, taking his arms from where they were wrapped around Derek and stretching them up, keeping them there just long enough for Derek to pull it off his arms.

When Derek brought his arms back down, they went straight to Stiles’s ass, and Stiles jumped up, wrapping his legs around Derek.

He leaned forward, into him, and Derek took a step back, easily carrying Stiles to his bed.

They landed with a thud on Stiles’s bed, his eyes blown out and hands moving insistently against Derek’s shirt. His hands fumbled on Derek’s buttons, the intoxication turning what normally would have been lithe movements into fingers slipping.

Derek leaned in, kissing Stiles again and _holy shit this was actually happening_. Derek had his hands on Stiles’s back, and was rubbing in small circles. Stiles’s senses were flooding,

As they continued, his hands slipped lower and lower, until they rested on the edge of Stiles’s waistband. Derek stopped then, pulling back from Stiles’s mouth.

Stiles took the lull to damn near rip the rest of Derek’s shirt off. Derek paused to slip his arms out and returned to the exact same place.

Stiles breathed in deep, the scent of tequila and sweat filling his nose. But there was something there, something so inexplicably _Derek_ that it made Stiles smile.

Derek stopped, looking at Stiles in a way that Stiles supposed was asking for permission. Their eyes met, and all Stiles could see was how Stiles growled out a “please” and Derek went for it. He slipped his fingers underneath the band, reached down, and cupped Stiles’s ass.

Stiles moaned in approval.

“Just… Just take them off” Stiles said, voice breathy. Derek obeyed, pulling Stiles’s underwear off his hips and over his hard cock. Derek looked up at Stiles, a hungry look in his eye.

“There is no way we are going any further until you are way more naked than you are.” Stiles said, breaking the moment. Derek smiled at him, a wide and cheeky smile that made Stiles’s heart flutter. Derek grabbed his pants and yanked them down, quickly shedding them and kicking the off his feet.

“Where were we?” Derek asked, smiling as he sunk back down to kiss Stiles again.

“I believe you were about to get in me. Lube’s in my pants.”

Derek raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Derek rolled off of Stiles, going for his pants as he pulled the packet of lube from the back pocket.

Derek launched himself on top of Stiles again, but not before tearing open the lube packet. With his teeth.

He squirted some out onto his pointer finger before he brought it down, circling Stiles’s rim.

Stiles threw his head back and moaned, his entire body tingling slightly with the feeling. He was on fire, more than the tequila shots ever made him, more than any sex ever made him.

He was used to having hands on him and having his hands on people, but this was different. This was a new type of touch, rough and with desire.

And if Stiles thought that was good, he was in no way prepared for how good it would feel inside him. Derek put one finger in slowly, twisting and turning, while all the while watching Stiles’s face carefully. When he finally had the full length of his finger buried in Stiles, he looked into his face.

Stiles nodded, telling him to go on. Derek’s fingers were wide and long,

Derek, face full of determination, pushed a second finger alongside the first. He took his time, stretching him carefully until both fingers were firmly seated inside Stiles.

“I…” Stiles started, breaking off with a moan. “I need you. I need you in me, now.” He said, voice desperate and needy.

“Gimme a minute.” Derek said before he started scissoring his fingers slowly and Stiles started to fall apart.

Derek started to drive Stiles crazy after a few minutes into the third finger.

“I might actually die if you don’t get in me right now.” Stiles said, punctuating his sentence by clenching around Derek’s fingers. He was rewarded with a loud groan from Derek.

Derek pulled his fingers out of stiles with a loud pop.  He pulled his hands back to his own underwear, pulling it off his hips and down his legs.

Stiles grabbed the condom, rolling it onto Derek easily. The lube packet was next, and he squirted the rest of it into his hand before he reached down and took Derek’s cock in his hand.

Derek full on moaned.

Stiles ran his hand up and down it, fully coating it with lube. Derek was breathing heavy on top of him.

“Are you ready?” Derek asked, voice low and eyes jet black. Stiles nodded, and Derek lined up and pushed in.

Stiles was _full_. It filled him up like no one ever had, completely and totally.

Derek was inching in slowly, concentration in his features and written on his face. He was holding back, for stiles.

“Just go.” Stiles said, grabbing Derek’s shoulder.

Derek responded by slamming into him, _hard_. Stiles felt like the breath was knocked out of him. He scrabbled for purchase in the sheets, grabbing handfuls on either side of himself.

“Oh god, oh god, more” Stiles moaned, and Derek slid out and back into him again. The second time he went in easier, and so Derek sped up.

Stiles reached down, intending to grab his cock, but Derek knocked his hand to the side, grabbing it himself. Stiles’s eyes rolled back into his head and he _moaned_. He couldn’t hear the music pumping from downstairs anymore; all he could hear was the blood rushing past his ears and Derek.

“I’m gonna-“ Derek said, before he broke off with a whine.

“Do it.” Stiles moaned and Derek came, throwing his head back as his orgasm wracked his body. Derek pulled out, grabbing the condom before he tied it off and threw it towards the trashcan, missing terribly.

Stiles was _so close_. He grabbed at his now abandoned cock, pulling at it in a desperate attempt to come. Derek’s hand came up, stilling it. Stiles looked up into Derek’s face.

“Let me.” Derek said, and he slunk down, taking Stiles into his mouth. All it took was for him to hollow out his cheeks and suck and Stiles was seeing stars. He chocked out that he was coming and Derek made no move to get out of the way, swallowing Stiles down and taking it.

Stiles collapsed back onto the bed, and a moment later Derek was curling up behind him, arm around his waist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not quite sure if it's clear, but Stiles is much more drunk than Derek is, and that is definitely going to play a factor in the next few chapters. Hope you all are enjoying it so far!


	6. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles are both huge idiots.

Stiles woke up slowly, opening his eyes to almost complete darkness. He blinked a few times, eyes adjusting, and yawned.

He glanced at the side table, noting the dim red numbers signaling that it was a little after 3 am.

 _Wonderful_.

He snuggled back under the covers before turning over.

Or, attempting to turn over.

Instead, he hit something. Or, someone. His eyes sprung open, and in the dark he just managed to make out the sleeping shape of Derek Hale.

He gaped.

Quickly he turned back around, wracking through his brain to try to think of how on earth this could have happened. The last thing he remembered from the night previous was dancing with that cute boy from Portugal. Wilson? Winston? Watson?

Somehow, he got from there to _here._

He somehow ended up sleeping next to, and from the looks of it, _with_ the hottest guy he had ever seen.

He wondered momentarily how drunk Derek was, but decided quickly that he must have been very _very_ drunk to sleep with him.

He drifted off as he tried to come up with _something_ to say to Derek in the inevitable morning.

-

When Derek woke up at 9 the next morning, Stiles was asleep. He had hazy memories from the night before: dancing with Stiles, going back to Stiles’s room, going farther.

He smiled gently.

Derek sat up, climbing over Stiles to get to his stuff sprawled around the floor.

As he was putting on his jeans, Stiles stirred, and Derek looked up.

“Morning.” Derek said.

Stiles sat up, grasping quickly what was happening.

“Look,” Stiles began, and Derek could feel his heart dropping. “I have _no_ idea what happened last night, but I promise I didn’t drug you. I think this was just us being very, very, _incredibly_ drunk.” Stiles said quickly, trying to get out all the words.

“What?” Derek asked, trying to get his head around what was happening. Stiles didn’t _remember?_

“I’m pretty sure from the extreme pain in my ass that we slept together, and I want to apologize for seducing you while you were drunk, it was wrong, and I hope we can still be friends.” Stiles said.

Derek’s stomach was churning, and not from the hangover. He thought Stiles _wanted_ this, wanted to be together.

He realized that Stiles was staring at him, waiting for a response.

“Yeah,” He said, his voice thick. “Yeah of course we can.” Stiles smiled, and Derek _needed to get out of that room._

He threw his clothes on haphazardly as he rushed out the door, carrying his shoes.

As he walked through the house he passed a few people, most of them wolf whistling at him. He kept walking, eyes burning and head throbbing. The main rooms were a mess from the night before, cups and various other items strayed across the floors. He climbed over them, continuing to his room.

When he reached the door, he realized that he didn’t have a key.

“Fuck.” He said under his breath. He pounded on the door, hoping Scott hadn’t crashed elsewhere as well.

To his surprise, Lydia was the one who answered the door.

“Good morning, Derek!” She said, extremely chipper. “I expect your night went well?”

He marched past her, slamming his shoes down on his bed. He had completely forgotten about Lydia. Lydia, the perfect girl who was _dating_ Stiles. Derek had fucked up.

Lydia shot Scott a look before she slipped out of the room.

There was silence as Derek flopped down onto his bed.

A few minutes past before anyone spoke.

“So, I’m assuming it didn’t go well?” Scott asked nervously. Derek waited a minute, thinking about if he actually wanted to answer. But he was stuck in this room fro the next two weeks.

“No.” He said, leaving it at that and hoping that Scott wouldn’t push it.

“What happened?” _fuck_

“We fucked. It was a mistake, and that’s the end of it.”

There was another silence, as if Scott was actually waiting for him to continue. Derek sighed.

“Fine.” He said, sitting up. “He didn’t remember anything, and asked if we could still be friends. Which is _fine_ with me, by the way, and more than is necessary. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never spoke to me again.”

“He asked if you could still be friends?” Scott asked, confused. Derek laid back down on his bed.

“Yes, I did just say that.”

Scott was silent again.

“I’m-uh- I’m going to go get some breakfast. Do you want anything?” Scott asked, getting up.

“No.”

Scott left without another word.

Derek sat there, processing what could have gone wrong.

Stiles. Stiles, who he had had massive feelings for since the first time he had seen him skate. Stiles, who he had watched every interview of, and hoped and hoped that he would be able to meet.

Stiles, who he met, and who was even more wonderful in person than in any interview.

Stiles. Who had slept with, thinking that he felt the same way.

But Stiles had a girlfriend, and Stiles had a life, and Stiles had friends way cooler and way more fun then he was.

Derek buried his head in his pillow, willing himself to fall back asleep, even though he knew it would never happen.

-

Lydia was quickly walking through the house, in the exact opposite path that Derek had taken only moments prior. The door was ajar when she arrived, and she wasn’t pleased to see who was in there.

“Dude, I just need you to tell me if she’s seeing anyone, is it really that difficult?”

“ _Dude_ , that is none of your business seeing as she wants nothing to do with you.” Stiles bit back to Jackson, who was standing in their room in front of Stiles’s bed, anger all over his features.

“He’s right.” Lydia said from the doorway and he spun around.

“Lyd-“

“Get out.” She said coldly.

“But-“

“Out.”

He left, storming out with anger. Lydia slammed the door behind him.

As soon as the door slammed, Stiles slammed his head back onto the bed.

“I fucked **up** _._ ”

“You did.” Lydia said simply.  

“Yes I know I did, and please say you brought food because a hung over Stiles is _not_ a Stiles…” He broke off, processing what she had said. “Wait how do you know?”

“I slept in Scott’s room, idiot. I heard what happened this morning when Derek stormed in.”

“Yeah, well,” He grumbled. “I said I fucked up. I don’t even know how it happened but when I woke up this morning he was just _here._ ”

“You do like him though.” Lydia asked. Stiles shot her a look.

“Of course I do, but fat chance that’s going to happen.”

When his head hit the pillow again, Lydia walked back out of the room, grabbing the doorknob to stop it from closing loudly.

She walked to the kitchen, intent on getting herself some breakfast, and bringing something back for Stiles as well.

As soon as she saw that sloppy mess of hair, she breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Scott?” She said and he turned around.

“Is Stiles moping too?” Scott asked as he turned around.

“He thinks he fucked up.”

“He did.”

“Well, yes, but he was really into Derek.” Lydia said, reaching around Scott for a bagel.

“Was?” Scott asked.

“Well, he still is.” Lydia said. Scott smiled.

“What?”

“We’re going to get them together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like it! Sorry about the late update, School got in the way :(
> 
> Next chapter is when Scott and Lydia's plans go into motion during the Opening Ceremonies. 
> 
> Also: Who do you want Scott to end up with, Allison, Isaac or Kira? Or Lydia to end up with, Jackson, Aidan or Allison? Comment or send me an ask and I'll tally up the winner.


	7. The Big One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up for Stiles, Lydia and the crew.

Stiles was dressed in his Olympian jacket and his nicest pair of jeans for this interview. Lydia kept referring to it as “the big one”, so he kind of figured that it would be acceptable.

“Are you ready yet?” Stiles yelled.

“Two more minutes!” Lydia yelled back from the bathroom. Stiles flopped back down onto his bed.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling briefly down his twitter feed for anything new. When your side of the world is asleep, there is nothing new.

That was until he hit Scott’s latest retweet.

“Olympian ‘Stiles’ Stilinski having one night stands in Sochi!” The tweet read, and it was followed by a link. Stiles groaned, and noticed Scott’s next tweet, ‘The press here are hilarious’, before he clicked the link.

_Ice dancer ‘Stiles’ Stilinski allegedly engaged with Snowboarder Derek Hale last night, a source from inside the Olympic Village tells us. “They were dancing hot and heavy and then went back to Stiles’s room after. Derek didn’t leave until this morning!” The source, who prefers to remain anonymous, reports. No word yet on what Stilinski’s partner, Lydia Martin, or best friend, Scott McCall, thinks of this relationship. According to the source, they were not on great terms in the morning, so maybe a relationship is not on the horizon for these two athletes. For more Olympic coverage, keep tuned in._

“Lydia!” Stiles yelled, louder this time. She came out from around the corner of the bathroom, mascara in hand.

“What?” She asked, annoyed.

“Did you tell the press about Derek?” He asked.

“No? Why what does it say?” She asked, dropping from annoyed to serious and walking closer.

Stiles showed her the article, and she read it quickly, scanning it. She gave him back his phone before standing up straight, a determined look in her eyes.

“After this interview. We will find out who did this _after this interview_ , okay?” She asked, and he nodded.

As soon as Lydia was back in the bathroom, she shot Scott a text. –Did you talk to the press?-

A reply came when they were walking towards the edge of Olympic Village. –No, found that this morning. Figured I share it so he didn’t find it another way.-

Lydia stuck her phone back in her purse.

There was a small gathering of press outside of the village, but Lydia and Stiles were headed straight for the big ones. They had a small studio set up for interviews across the street.

As soon as they were out, security had surrounded them. Large bearded Russian men in uniform with guns on their hips and passes hanging from their necks.

“How are you doing, boys?” Lydia asked, nodding to them. They said nothing.

Just before they entered the building, Stiles thought he saw something small and brown dart behind he building. Before he could look over, however, it was gone.

The studio was small, no reception area like the ones he had been in back in the US. They walked right on set, and Stiles could see the anchor getting his nose powdered in his chair.

A woman rushed up to them, her brown hair tied up tight in a knot at the back of her head, but with strands straying into her face. She pushed some back behind her ear before ushering them onto the stage.

Stiles was on autopilot for majority of the interview, Where are you from, are you excited, what are you most looking forward to. Simple questions, requiring simple answers.

Then the bomb dropped.

“Apparently you and Derek Hale have been getting rather close, is that right, Stiles?” The interviewer asked him. Stiles’s eyebrows shot up.

“Um…”

“Yes, Derek is a very nice guy and we are both appreciating him showing us the ropes here, isn’t that right Stiles?” Lydia asked, saving the day.

“Yes, that’s correct!”

The interviewer looked disappointed, but thankfully didn’t press for any more information.

He checked his watch. “Now unfortunately, that’s all we have time for. I look forward to seeing you both triumph at this year’s games.” He said. Stiles and Lydia both murmured a “thank you”.

“And have fun tonight at the opening ceremonies!”

-

They arrived in a bundle, all of them in their matching outfits. Stiles was disappointed that he didn’t actually get to _watch_ the ceremonies, and he loudly announced this to Lydia multiple times. They were beneath the stadium, and could hear the roar of the crowd as they cheered on whatever was happening.

As Stiles looked around, he felt a strange feeling of pride in his country. It was odd, starting from within and warming him out to his fingertips.

It felt like they had been waiting forever when the first country left to walk. He let out a sigh of relief with a loud “FINALLY”

Lydia turned to him. “United States. U. End of the alphabet, U.”

Stiles groaned, and Lydia walked off, mumbling something about finding Allison.

“Aare you kidding me” Stiles grumbled.

“Will you just shut up?” A voice came from behind him. Stiles spun around to find himself face to face with Jackson.

“That’s pretty brave coming from you, isn’t it?” Stiles asked, smirking.

“I think we both know what happened last time you taunted me.” Jackson said, raising an eyebrow in the cocky way that he had perfected.

_It was the night of nationals the year previous. Lydia and Stiles hadn’t made the cut, but Lydia begged Stiles to stick around to watch Jackson, whom she was dating at the time. Stiles had given in, and they had stayed._

_It was after the competition that he regretted it._

_They were supposed to be meeting Jackson for a celebratory drink in the hotel lobby, just the three of them. Stiles was used to being the odd man out at this point, and when things got weird he would just disappear into his hotel room with a beer and HBO._

_Jackson was running late, as was typical, but this time was different. This time, he showed up with a giggling girl on his arm and walked right by the bar on their way to the elevator._

_Stiles shot up after him, vision blurring slightly from the anger of the situation._

_“What do you think you’re doing?” Stiles had asked, and Jackson had spun around._

_“Oh look, the little ones who never qualified.” Jackson said tauntingly, and Stiles registered that Lydia was right behind him._

_Stiles didn’t even hesitate, he just stepped up and decked Jackson in the face._

_Stiles had no lack of upper body strength, due to lifting an entire other person above his head while gliding on ice, so the punch must have hurt. Jackson, however, just shook it off, and reciprocated, knocking Stiles to the ground and out cold._

_He woke up back in the hotel room, Lydia putting a cold cloth on his face. Her mascara in streaks down her face, but when Stiles asked if she was alright, she nodded._

_They slept in the same bed that night, as they had a few times before. Never sexual, but they knew that the other was there when they were needed._

_The next morning Jackson showed up knocking on their door, tripping over himself to apologize to Lydia, claiming he was drunk, and didn’t know what he was doing, and that he would do anything to get her back._

_She shut the door in his face._

“And I thought you didn’t remember anything?” Stiles asked. “Oh _Lydia_ , I was drunk, _oh_ _Lydia_ I was told what happened this morning, oh Lydia take me back!”

“We both know she still will.” Jackson said smirking. He turned before Stiles had the chance to reply.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was a very plot-based chapter, and it set up a lot of things for future chapters.   
> Who do you think is leaking to the press?


End file.
